Angels Bending Near
by whimseyrhodes
Summary: Trying to escape his nightmares, Eliot is plunged into another one, one that can happen to any of us. Dedicated to pdljmpr6
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimers: Oh come on, do I have ta? Really? OK, fine, not mine *crosses arms and pouts*

Dedicated and written for Pdljmpr6, my cyber-sib, who makes me laugh out loud like a fool in public, bang my head on the desk at home while I howl, and smile like an idiot for no reason at all. THANKYOU for all your support and reviews! This is for you!

**Angels Bending Near**

Eliot tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets twisted around his ankles. Pillows littered the floor, and the blanket was twisted in his hands.

Nightmares had plagued him for weeks, turning night into a time to be dreaded. He tried to avoid sleeping at all, but that made him surly and snappish to the others, and there was no reason to take his frustrations out on them. So he tried sitting on the floor in a darkened living room, meditating like the Dali had instructed him to years before. When that didn't work, he tried exhausting himself in the boxing ring before bedtime, hoping the physical exertion would pull him deeply enough under to escape. When that didn't work, he tried a natural combination of herbs that an ex guaranteed would knock him out for hours.

When that didn't work, he was dragged kicking and screaming into his nightmares, fighting with all his strength against demons that were determined to have his soul.

Finally ripping himself out of the last torturous dream, he sat up on the bed, sweating profusely. He kicked the pillows out of his way as he stalked into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and stood under the spray, letting it beat on his shoulders.

After punishing his back with the hot water, Eliot stepped out of the stall and dried off, then dressed in jeans and a dark t-shirt. He put on his boots and grabbed his keys, then walked out into the dark night to his truck, thinking that maybe a drive would clear his head.

Hours later, as the sun just started to peek over the horizon, Eliot found himself driving up a twisting road that lead into the mountains. The scenery was beautiful; the lush green trees filled the hillside and birds soared in the thermals above, playing on the wind. He rolled his windows down, letting the fresh breeze rifle through his hair, sending it flying around his face, making him smile. The sun rose higher, and with it spread her graceful dance of lavender, pinks and oranges across the sky. Eliot was thankful that he decided to take the drive, if only to see that spectacular sunrise.

His peace was shattered by the angry honking of a horn behind him. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw another large truck behind him, swerving back and forth right on his bumper, the driver trying to pass and then apparently changing his mind. Eliot looked back at the road, unable to even see a shoulder wide enough to pull over onto to let this angry person pass. The road curved back and forth on itself, a sharp drop to the right and rocky hillside immediately to the left.

Eliot held his breath as the truck finally decided to pass, roaring up beside him on the inside of a turn. Side by side they rounded the bend.

Eliot knew that what he saw as they rounded the curve would be forever embedded in his nightmares, right along side the knives, guns and torture of his past. Right in front of them came a school bus, and in the other lane, another impatient person trying to pass.

As the tires of the four vehicles screamed Eliot had two thoughts running through his head: 'What are the chances of two morons on the same road?' and 'Will I get to kick their asses before I die?'


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers: I stole them and put them under my bed. They're mine! *shrieks as TNT knocks on the door* OK, OK! THEY'RE YOURS! dammit

Dedicated to and written for Pdljmpr6, my cyber-sib, my muse, my constant chuckle...please enjoy installment #2.

Eliot knew that what he saw as they rounded the curve would be forever embedded in his nightmares, right along side the knives, guns and torture of his past. Right in front of them came a school bus, and in the other lane, another impatient person trying to pass.

As the tires of the four vehicles screamed Eliot had two thoughts running through his head: 'What are the chances of two morons on the same road?' and 'Will I get to kick their asses before I die?'

**Angels Bending Near**

For only one split second, four drivers had a chance to react. The bus driver, knowing he had no where else to go, pulled a hard right, slamming the bus into the side of the mountain. The driver who was passing Eliot pulled right as well, trying to angle his truck between the bus and the opposing passing vehicle. The van in front of Eliot didn't react soon enough, and its front fender slammed against the pickup, forcing it back into the path of the school bus, annihilating the driver's side of the pickup before continuing forward.

Eliot slammed on his brakes, whipping the wheel to the left. His truck slung sideways and plowed into the mess of vehicles. The van in front of him kept coming and rammed into Eliot's truck, flipping it over onto its side and pushing it along another hundred feet along the asphalt with its momentum.

Eliot saw the van looming in the passenger's window and instinctively backed away, pulling himself into the corner of the cab, all the while knowing it would do no good. The huge van smashed into the side of his Ford, shattering the window and sending bits of glass flying over Eliot's hunched form. The tortured metal screamed as it buckled and warped, the cab shrinking sideways like an accordion. The force of the larger vehicle tilted the pickup onto two wheels, and Eliot grabbed the steering wheel, trying to force the drive wheels into the skid, hoping to avoid a roll over. The wheel was ripped out of his hands, burning his palms, as the van pushed the pickup over and the impact slammed Eliot onto his shoulder, his head ricocheting off the asphalt. The momentum of the vehicle continued to push the pickup across the road, and the thin material of Eliot's t-shirt was soon shredded, and his shoulder quickly became a bloody mess as the asphalt ripped into his skin.

The hour was early, but the people on the highway were already up and on their way about their lives, unaware of the horror about to unravel in front of them.

As cars, rushing towards jobs, schools, and PTA meetings, careened around the curves, there was little chance to react to the pile up before them. Screeching brakes, explosions of metal against metal and the screams of the injured broke the silence of the usually peaceful mountain road.

At least eight cars added to the accident before it ended, and more vehicles sat on the roadways, crammed this way and that, making it impossible for any kind of timely rescue attempts. People sat in their vehicles, frantically calling 911, or simply stayed where they were, stunned.

"...happened...?"

"...he alive?..."

"...don't..."

"..the children..."

Eliot swam in and out of consciousness, snatches of half-heard conversation swirling through his head. He drew a breath and moaned, the only sound he could manage.

"Hey!" he felt a hand gently grip his, "don't move ..." Eliot faded out.

The next time he woke, it was to a blinding pain that spiked through his left leg. He screamed as the agony shot up his spine. He tried to move his head, but hands were gripping his neck. He started to fight, and the voices became louder, more urgent.

"Don't move, you're ok..." Agony rocketed around his body like a pinball, igniting every inch with a burning flame of pain. He tried to move, hissing as he felt hands hold him down. His eyes were half open, but he saw only a red filmed blur of movement.

"Don't move your neck, man," that one sounded like Hardison, so he forced his eyes wider. One eye was blurry, but the other focused on the face of a kindly old man with glasses, a grey fringe of hair encircling his head.

"Hey there, buddy," he said to Eliot, "You've been in an accident, and you're hurt. You'll be ok, you just stay still." Eliot tried to obey, gasping and trembling, his breath jerky as he tried to calm himself down.

"...th' bus.." he croaked, feeling like shards of glass lay embedded in his throat. He felt blood dripping from his mouth as he asked, "...kids?"

The other man looked closely at the blood covered man in front of him and wondered at the concern he displayed for others before even asking about his own injuries. "There must have been angels riding that bus, young man." He said in a hushed tone, looking back at the mess of the school bus.

Eliot fought to keep his eyes open, "...'r th' kids...?" he repeated, anxious now.

"The children are fine," he assured the hitter, "There were only four and they're all out of the bus." The man patted Eliot's hand, "Some scrapes and bumps, but they'll be just fine. You relax now, and concentrate on staying still."

Eliot looked past the man who knelt hunched in the remains of the front windshield. He could see many tiny feet standing behind the kindly man, reassuring him that the children were indeed well.

"Listen, there's a lot of injured people out here that I need to check on. I'm gonna brace your neck, but you've got to promise me not to move, can you do that?"

Eliot processed the information slowly, licked his lips and said, "...yeah."

Satisfied, the man carefully tucked a rolled up cloth under Eliot's neck, bracing his head firmly against it. Looking directly into the young man's eyes, he said, "You've got a concussion, broken bones, and who knows what else, boy. So you gotta stay still, you hear?"

"I'll...try," he whispered.

"Ok, guess that'll hafta do," the man stood and Eliot watched his feet walk out of his line of sight.

The hitter tried to breathe slowly, the sharp jabs of pain in his leg spiking with each beat of his heart. He felt warm wetness under his left side, and without moving his head, looked down. He saw a large puddle of blood soaking into the pavement beneath his head and shoulder, a bright red pool that glistened in the early morning sunlight.

"Hey, mister?" He heard a tiny voice ask. He looked up again, squinting into the brightness. In front of him, crouching carefully on the shattered glass was a young girl, no more than six or seven.

"Hey there, darlin'," he rasped.

"Are you gonna be ok?" she asked innocently.

"Don't you worry...'bout me ...sweetheart," he drawled, coughing as blood gathered in the back of his throat. He couldn't stop the breathy moan that escaped him, and he closed his eyes.

He felt a touch on his hand and opened his eyes again. She was kneeling closer, her hand in his. "It's ok, mister," she said. "I'll stay with you, if you want."

Eliot closed his fingers around hers gently, his large hand dwarfing her tiny one. "Thanks, darlin'."

She smiled, and the sight was brighter to him than the sunlight, and gave him a peace he hadn't known for a long time. "What's yer name?" he asked her.

"Megan," she said, "but lotsa people call me Meg."

"Megan, huh? That's a right pretty name," Eliot said, talking to keep his mind off the pain of his battered and broken body. Weariness pulled at him though, and he was loosing the fight for consciousness. He closed his eyes for a moment.

A light but insistent tapping on his cheek woke him up. "Mister? Mister? Hey, mister, you gotta wake up..." Megan's voice was near his head. Opening his eyes was a struggle, and the left one still wasn't focusing. The red haze was fading though, and he hoped that all the blood wasn't scaring the little girl. Her hand continued to stroke his cheek, soothing the hitter. It amazed him really, that such a tiny action could make the pain recede into the distance.

"Thanks, darlin'."

"Why do you call me 'darlin'?" she asked.

"'S just a nickname, like Meg," he said.

"I like it," she said, smiling again, then frowning as she saw his eyes drift. She poked him on the nose. "Hey!"

Startled blue eyes opened again, so large they reminded her of an owl. She tilted her head and said, "The man said I was supposed to keep you awake, mister." It took some time before his eye looked at her and focused again, and his lips quirked up at the corner. She liked that. He smiled funny, and reminded her of her daddy.

"I'm awake now, darlin'." He said in his low voice, using the nickname he gave her.

"What's your name, mister?" she asked, curious now. After all, he knew her name so it was only right that she knew his.

"'m name's Eliot," he told her.

"That's a nice name, all growed up and such," she said. He chuckled. She liked the sound he made, all low and purring like a great big cat. She wanted to hear more of it, so she asked more questions.

As Megan kept Eliot awake and conscious, the rescue crews were forming at the ends of the three mile long traffic jam surrounding the pile-up. EMT's and paramedics raced towards the injured while news crews descended on the accident site and reported it with great dignity, followed by gruesome shots from the news helicopters.

Across the city, the breaking story flooded every channel. At the offices, the team looked at the mangled, twisted up wreck that had been Eliot's pickup and gasped in unison, watching as the footage zoomed in on a little girl sitting near the hood of his overturned truck, glass strewn all over the highway, holding a bloody hand in hers.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers: Sue me and get pocket lint, lol. I also have zilch for medical training, and most of this comes from research on the web. Any inaccuracies are mine, and if you complain, well, I just won't set your broken leg, K?

This is for pj, a kindred spirit.

Authors Note: I apologize for the lateness of my current stories, but be assured that they are _still in progress_, and that I have NOT abandoned either this, or Crimson Regret.

* * *

Across the city, the breaking story flooded every channel. At the offices, the team looked at the mangled, twisted up wreck that had been Eliot's pickup and gasped in unison, watching as the footage zoomed in on a little girl sitting near the hood of his overturned truck, glass strewn all over the highway, holding a bloody hand in hers.

* * *

**Angels Bending Near**

Nate immediately began barking orders to the rest, and Hardison's fingers started flying across the keyboards. He snagged every little iota of information that the internet had to offer in regards to the accident, putting it all up on the media wall. Images flooded the screens. Many of the photos were taken from far distances from news choppers which showed a twisting highway with motionless vehicles stopped bumper to bumper in some giant's crazy game of pick-up-sticks. Some focused on the accident itself, from varying angles. Most of those homed in on the vehicle that looked like had sustained the worst damage: Eliot's mangled pickup, lying on its side, a pool of dark red blood under the cab.

In the farther shots, EMT's and firefighters could be seen, racing towards the accident site. People milled around the scene, some dazed, some crying, some minorly injured. A few children stood by the back of the bus, being held there by others, kept from seeing much of the carnage.

A pickup in front of the school bus, its hood buried in the cab, was pouring out thick dark smoke from the ruins of its engine. A figure could be seen, slumped over the steering wheel. Someone had covered it with a blanket, and no one was going near it.

One hundred feet or so from that truck was Eliot's. The once immaculate black paint was scratched and peeled; its pristine side panels dented and caved in. The huge silver bull bars on the front of the bumper now looked like crumpled shreds of tin foil. Three of the tires were shredded, and fluids of every color, including red, soaked the pavement around the truck.

* * *

"Mister Eliot?"

Eliot heard the small voice call out to him again. His brain had been replaced with a hive of buzzing hornets, all trying to sting their way out of his skull at once. The drone distracted him from what Megan was saying, and her voice receded into the distance.

"Mister Eliot? Please wake up, you're supposed to finish the story about the horses," there was a plea in the words.

"..unh...megan?" he asked, feeling blood once again dripping over his lips. His breathing was becoming more labored, and it felt like there were bubbles in his chest, sliding around and popping. He knew by that feeling that one or both of his lungs had been punctured, and it was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be able to breathe because there was too much blood in his lungs. It was sad to think that he knew the feeling so intimately.

"Hey man, S'up?" he heard Hardison ask. "Why you gotta go and get all blood and yuck and junk all over again?"

He raised his head and saw the tall man leaning in behind Megan. "Har...Hardison..?"

"Yeah, man. Seriously. You gotta quit this. It's givin' us all heart attacks." The hacker leaned closer. "Dude. Sophie's gone and bought new shoes for your _funeral_."

Eliot closed his eyes, struggling to breathe. His head was pounding; the sun was blindingly bright and drilling right into his eyes, causing them to water. Pain blossomed between his ears and filled his entire skull, making him so dizzy he wanted to vomit, but that would just add to the mess Hardison was complaining about.

"Eliot, sweetheart," a soft British voice cooed, "Those shoes will look wonderful, and that matching purse? To _die_ for...oh, wait, that's right. You are dying, aren't you?" Eliot looked up into the sophisticated face of Sophie, her dark hair pulled back into a twist. She stood up and all he saw were her black Prada heels as she walked away.

His vision went black and he floated in nothingness for a while.

"I think he's dead. Yup. Definitely dead. He's not moving," another disembodied voice floated around in his brain. Eliot peeled his eyes open and saw blonde hair swinging in front of his eyes.

"Huh," the voice said. "Maybe not all the way dead, I guess. Just kinda slightly dead." He followed the hair up to the face, and saw Parker's face right in front of him, hanging upside down over the top of the cab. She wrinkled her brows and tilted her head like she did when she was confused, and then disappeared over the roof of the truck.

Snappy dress shoes and suit pants walked around the hood then, and Nate's voice floated down to him. "Well, what have you gotten yourself into this time, Eliot? I suppose you're expecting us to come waltzing to your rescue, _yet again_, and fix this mess. Honestly, I don't know how you manage to screw yourself up so bad every time we leave you alone." The shoes started tapping on the concrete. "Dunno how we're gonna fix this one though. Might as well just leave you in the morgue."

The shoes walked away and his vision tunneled again, focusing on the tapping on the concrete as he fell into the blackness again.

* * *

"Let's get a team here!" a voice called. Megan looked up from where she was sitting, Mister Eliot's hand still in hers. He had been talking funny for quite a while, having conversations with people she couldn't see. She knew that was bad, her mommy had told her that invisible friends didn't exist, and people who thought they did were crazy. She didn't think Mister Eliot was crazy, though.

Hands gripped her shoulders then and started to pull her away from the truck. "No!" she cried. "I gotta stay with him! I gotta stay!"

"Sorry honey," a sweet voice said. Megan looked at the woman behind her. "We're going to help him now, sweetheart. You go over there with the bus driver, okay?" she looked over at Oliver, the elderly bus driver who was motioning to her.

"Okay," she said sadly, "but you gotta promise me you'll take good care of him, 'kay?" she asked.

"We'll take very good care of him," the paramedic said as she shooed her into Oliver's care. Turning to the unconscious man bleeding on the concrete before her, she hoped she hadn't just lied to the little girl.

Her partner was already on the scene with a cervical collar, sliding it under and around the young man's neck. After immobilizing his neck, he took vitals and rattled them off to her as she set up their equipment and started taking out what they might need.

"Alright Tenny, I've got BP of 90/55, resp. shallow and heart rate low at 55. Pupils unequal and non-reactive, left one is blown. O2 is low, only 83 and rales heard in lower quadrant, pneumothorax."

Tenny listened to his assessment and took charge. "Okay, get ready to bag him if necessary; we'll give him O2 via mask for now. Start a Large Bore IV with normal saline and 1 mil epi. I'll get the KED and we'll try to get him out of that death trap and onto a longboard."

She ran over to where she had set the other equipment and pulled out the longboard and KED, the vest-looking contraption that was used to extract people from motor vehicle accidents such as these. When she returned to the scene, she saw the man opening his eyes and blinking, but not yet responding to her partners' queries. Setting the boards down, she crouched near.

"Hey there," she said. "You've been in an accident. Can you tell me your name?"

There was no immediate response from the man except more blinking, but slowly his eyes focused more-or-less on hers, and he answered, "...El...Eliot.."

"Okay, then Eliot, we're going to get you out of here and to the hospital. Can you tell me where you're hurting?"

"My...my head," he slurred, blood bubbles forming on his bottom lip, "...'n my left leg."

"Okay, Eliot. Your breathing is worrying us right now, so we're going to put a mask on your face, and this will help you breathe, okay?" She nodded to Dick and he put the mask over Eliot's mouth and tightened the straps to hold it securely.

"Tenny, we're going to have to wait for the Jaws, there's no way we'll get him out through the front. The top has to come off." Eliot heard the male paramedic talking, and realized that he was stuck so badly that they needed the Jaws of Life to further dismantle his truck. He felt the female EMT slide closer. "Eliot?" she asked.

"Y..yeah..." he managed to whisper, "...heard...need... th' jaws.."

"That's right," she said. "They'll be here in just a moment, so what I'm going to do is drape this tarp over us, so we don't get any glass on us, and I'm going to stay right here with you, okay?"

"...'kay.."

He felt the plastic sheet going over him and tucked around as much of his body as she could reach. She stayed under the tarp with him as promised, talking to him and relaying information out to her comrade who was working with the firefighters who had arrived on scene.

Eliot found it harder and harder to breathe, his throat closing on him several times. He started choking and Tenny lifted the mask, "Dick! Hand me a NPA...his airway is closing!" She reached under the tarp and her partner handed her a packet, which she ripped open with her teeth.

"Okay, Eliot, this is going to be uncomfortable, but your airway is getting blocked, I need to insert this tube so you can breathe. It's called a Nasopharyngeal Airway, and it goes up your nose, okay?" Not giving him time to ask questions or argue, she placed her hands on his face and inserted the end of the tube into his nose, and he felt it slide down the back of his throat. He screwed up his face at the feeling and heard her say, "Easy Eliot, almost done. Take it easy." He wanted to gag from the sensation, but the sudden rush of air into his lungs erased the desire. She put the oxygen mask back on his face and he relaxed a little, finally able to bring air back into his damaged lungs.

Through a haze of confusion and pain, Eliot heard the loud buzzing of machinery and the squeal of crushing metal as the Jaws bit through the frame of the truck. He felt the vibrations as the metal was severed, and spikes of agony ripped through him. Tenny's soft but strong voice became an anchor, talking him through the pain when it became nearly unbearable and he would moan loudly.

Finally the roof of the pickup had been removed, and the EMT's and Firefighters had free access to him and his injuries.

They slid the KED behind Eliot's prone form, and managed to tuck the edges around his waist and hips without moving him too much. Dick tested his response by having Eliot squeeze his fingers with both hands while Tenny crawled past his body into the cab. Removing his boots and socks, she checked the pedal pulses in both feet and nodded to Dick, and then they commenced strapping him to the KED. When he was fully secured, they rechecked the responses to make sure nothing had been strapped wrong. Finding the responses the same, they started the extraction process.

Eliot felt the EMT's moving around him, strapping him into the KED, and while he didn't like being tied to _anything_, he stayed docile and let them do their jobs. When they started moving him though, it became a different story. The embers that had been roasting in his leg surged into full-fledged agony and he clamped his teeth together to hold back the scream, but wasn't able to stay silent. The backboard and c-collar prevented him from twisting away from the pain, so he grabbed the straps of the device and pulled against the resistance it offered as he screamed.

Blood roared in his ears and his vision grew dark and he felt hands all over, on his hands to pull them away from the straps, on his chest to check his lungs, and on his leg _*FUCK!* _to clamp down on the bleeding. Vertigo assaulted him when they rolled him onto his back and his stomach threatened to revolt. He felt himself strapped fully onto a backboard, his legs and arms restrained. The inborn terror he had of being completely immobilized started to wash over him, but in the distance he heard Tenny's calming voice talking to him, reassuring him and it followed him down into the darkness.

* * *

A/N: OK, while I normally don't beg here, I am gonna this time...review, pretty please? They really do help, and right now, I could use all the help I can get! That's right, this button, riiiiight here-


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimers: Sue me and get pocket lint, lol. I also have zilch for medical training, and most of this comes from research on the web. Any and all inaccuracies are mine.

Written for my cybersib pj, who doesn't even nag daily for her whump-fix (although she probably should, lol). Peej, a HUGE apology for the lateness of updates.

Authors Note: Don't even question Hardison's genius people. He hacked the _White House_ 'cause he was _bored_, for cryin' out loud. He hacked a Steranko for Parker...what will he hack for Eliot?

***LEVERAGE***

He felt himself strapped fully onto a backboard, his legs and arms restrained. The inborn terror he had of being completely immobilized started to wash over him, but in the distance he heard Tenny's calming voice talking to him, reassuring him and it followed him down into the darkness.

**Angels Bending Near**

"I still don't understand why we can't just go to the site, Nate," Sophie argued.

"Because by the time we get in there, the Mobile Command Center will be well established, and we'll have a hard time insinuating ourselves. Besides, by _that_ time, Eliot will be on his way to a hospital, and we'll only raise flags if we cut out early," the mastermind explained. "It's best to just wait until we know where he'll be taken and meet him there."

Nate looked over at the hacker, who was busy ignoring him in favor of his trusty laptop and a bottle of orange soda.

"Yeah, baby, show me whatcha' got!" Hardison finished the last sub-routine and initiated the program, crossing his fingers as the lines of code ran up the screen. The image that flashed onto the media screen was fuzzy and indistinct, but with a couple of clicks it sharpened. Nate and Sophie looked at the image on the wall in confusion, and Parker tried to turn her head upside down like an owl as they searched their puzzled minds for the combination to this lock.

Touching a few more points, the brown and green image with twisting ribbons of grey and blue were enlarged exponentially, finally resolving in a topography map of the upper eastern states. The photo kept zooming in, until they could see New England, then Boston, then the winding road that Eliot had taken that morning. They watched in astonishment as the image kept zooming in, until they saw the wreckage in real-time, seeing the EMT's and firefighters scurrying around like ants on a busy hill.

"Who's your daddy?" Hardison whooped and clapped as the images sharpened.

Sophie glanced at the hacker in astonishment as she realized what he had done. "You hijacked a _satellite?_" she asked.

The tall man looked at her, his eyebrows raised and head tilted. "I hacked the White House and a Steranko, man, you think re-tasking a satellite is all that hard? Please." He spared her the techno-babble and chewed on a gummi-frog instead, knowing it would just go over her head.

A section of the screen shimmered, and he backed it off, letting the image readjust. A large Life-Flight chopper flew over the bird's eye view, and they watched as the satellite imagery showed it hovering over the accident scene as it lowered a basket.

Hardison tapped the keys again, and the image zoomed to the madhouse below. In the midst of the organized chaos, they saw a read-headed woman bent over a stretcher, her hand on the shoulder of the patient. He was restrained to the longboard across his ankles, thighs, hips and shoulders, and a myriad of medical equipment surrounded them. The draft from the chopper flipped her hair back and she looked up, her eyes squinting into the wind.

They saw Eliot then, a c-collar around his neck, oxygen mask on his face, and covered with blood. The image was so clear that they could see his eyes, partially open and unfocused, the blues hidden in a smear of red.

***LEVERAGE***

Tenny continued to talk to Eliot, unsure if her words were getting through. He had been in an extreme amount of pain during the extraction process, and had panicked when they strapped him onto the stretcher. His shaking had subsided a little the more she talked, but he was still tense, his muscles thrumming under her hands. She smoothed his hair again, noticing that it had some affect on him, making his eyes droop just a little more each time she did it.

The Life-Flight chopper hovered over the scene, lowering the basket that Tenny and Dick would strap him into. Dick reached up and caught the basket as it twirled down, pulling it over to Tenny and Eliot. They maneuvered the stretcher into the basket and strapped it down, securing Eliot with yet more restraints. She felt him gasping as they worked, and saw his wide eyes looking at her.

"Easy, Eliot, we're just strapping you into the helicopter basket," she saw his eyes move to the bird above them. "They'll lift you up and you'll be at the hospital in no time."

The winch started at Dick's signal, and the basket lifted into the air, circling a little as the wind buffeted it. She had been in one of those baskets for a training session, and it was terrifying. She couldn't imagine how Eliot felt with his obvious dislike of restraints and his massive injuries on top of the dizzying ride to the chopper. Finally she saw the basket grabbed by one of the helmeted attendants and secured inside, and then it changed direction.

She watched as the bird lifted and then veered off towards the city as she shaded her eyes with her hand. It was always hard, letting go of a critically injured patient, not knowing if they would live or die.

Beside her, a tiny girl watched the helicopter too, her long curly hair blowing in the wind. Megan slipped her hand into the startled EMT's, and asked, "Is Mister Eliot gonna die?"

Tenny didn't answer as she knelt down and hugged the child.

***LEVERAGE***

Nate and the rest of the team watched as Eliot was lifted into the helicopter and it moved off. He turned to the hacker and said, "Hardison, do you know where...

"Already got it, man," he interrupted. "They're takin' him to St. Benedict's on Longview. That's no more than eight miles from us. We can be there in ten." He bagged up his laptop and gummi-frogs, grabbed his soda and was already moving as the others swiftly followed him out the door.

***LEVERAGE***

The ride in the basket was indeed dizzying, and Eliot stopped looking at the chopper as it twisted and twirled above him. He closed his eyes, but it wasn't much better. He could feel the wind spinning him around and his stomach started to revolt. He clamped his jaws and forced his rebellious stomach down, and focused on the pain instead. There was a lot to choose from. His left leg burned with an unholy fire; he didn't know what had happened to it and from the pain, he wasn't sure he wanted to. His ribs were killing him; they shifted with every breath and even though he was wearing oxygen, he could still feel his lungs bubbling. His left shoulder was also on fire; the skin was torn away and muscle exposed to the bandage, his nerves spasming at every twitch and movement. And on top of that, he had the headache from hell, and the spinning was only adding to his nausea.

Soon the basket bumped to a stop, and he felt it being drawn into the chopper bay, then the helicopter changed direction and increased speed. More hands were on him, reading his stats as voices shouted over the wind. Eliot only heard the thumping sound of the rotors as they sped along, the sound following him into darkness.

***LEVERAGE***

Nate pulled into the parking lot and even before he could put the vehicle into park, three doors opened and the SUV disgorged its passengers. Nate hurried to catch up to the others, who were jogging towards the entrance of the ER.

He heard a thick sound in the distance and looked up, seeing the dark form of a helicopter making its way to the hospital, lights flashing everywhere. He pointed up, "Here they come!" They all paused in their run to look up. All four watched as the heavy chopper disappeared onto the roof, and then started to run again. They got to the reception desk and they all started babbling at once.

"Hold it!" Nate shouted, and the others quieted. Turning to the now-frazzled receptionist, he said, "Our friend is being airlifted here, we just saw the helicopter land. Can you tell us anything?"

She turned to her keyboard, frowning as she searched the records. "I'm sorry sir, I don't have any information on him yet, he's only just been checked in." The woman looked up at him. "If you'll just tell me his name and then have a seat, I'll have the doctor come and talk to you as soon as possible."

He sighed and told her the name, then walked to the waiting room as the others followed dejectedly. Turning around, he saw Parker in the doorway, her face speculative. He walked over to her and took her arm, leading her into the room. "No, Parker, you can't go steal him," he said. She turned an innocent look towards him, all wide eyes, and he raised his brows. Her face fell, and she slumped into a chair, pouting.

Three long and nerve wracking hours later, a man in scrubs walked into the room, holding a chart. "Family of Eliot...Kendrick?" he said.

The four in the room shot to their feet even before he finished the name and gathered, expectant looks on their faces.

"How is he?"

"Is he okay?"

"Can we see him?"

Voices tumbled over one another and he held up his hand, used to this kind of reaction from family by now. "I'm Dr. Staten. Let me begin by telling you that he is stable, for now. He is still in critical condition, but the next 24 hours will tell." He paused and saw their worried looks.

"Mr. Kendrick has sustained massive injuries from the collision. He has a severe concussion, a badly abraded shoulder that will require a skin graft, when he is stable enough to handle the surgery. Four of his ribs are broken, and one punctured his left lung. He has a chest tube in right now to remove the fluids, and we are monitoring that very closely to make sure it doesn't refill. He sustained a compound fracture of his femur, which, again, when he is stable, will require surgery so we can insert a rod into it. For now, he's in traction."

Parker wobbled, and Hardison grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. Nate looked at Sophie and saw that her face was pale, and he drew her to him, his arm around her waist. She leaned in for support as her knees threatened to give way.

"Can we see him?" Nate asked after clearing his throat.

"Only one of you, and only for a few minutes," the doctor said as he backed off, letting them choose which one would follow him. They all turned to Nate, and he nodded, breaking away from the group to follow Dr. Staten.

The physician led him down the hallway past a central desk; Nate noted that he was in the Intensive Care Unit and shuddered slightly.

The doctor stopped at an open door, the curtain of the room slightly closed over the full wall window. From this angle, Nate could only see the very foot of the bed.

"Remember, just a couple of minutes."

Nate nodded, and the doctor left him alone. Steeling himself, he walked into the room. He thought he was prepared for what he saw, but he wasn't. Eliot lay on the bed, paler than he could ever remember the hitter being. There were dark smudges under his closed eyes like bruises, and a bandage around his temples. His chest was bare, and there was a tube taped _into_ the left side his chest, about at the middle of his ribs. Nate shuddered at the sight. A bandage covered his left shoulder, and there were more around the palms of both hands. His left leg was encased in a device that looked like it had come directly from a medieval torture chamber. There was a sling under his hip and calf, with bars along the length of his thigh up to his knee. A metal rod had been inserted through his knee, and pins and pulleys held tension on it so that the ends of the bone didn't grate on each other. It looked horribly painful, but he doubted that Eliot felt it at the moment.

The worst thing was the ventilator that was hooked up to the unconscious hitter, assisting his breathing. Nate gripped the rails of the bed, afraid to even touch Eliot for fear he'd inadvertently hurt the man.

"We're here, Eliot," he said, reaching out to touch his right forearm, about the only place that didn't have some tubes, wires or bandages covering it. "We're all here, you'll be okay," he said, hoping, like Tenny, that he hadn't just lied to him.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimers: Sue me and get pocket lint, lol. I also have zilch for medical training, and most of this comes from research on the web. Any and all inaccuracies are mine.

Written for my cybersib pj, who seems to have disappeared from cyberspace *sniff...WAAAHHHH!* I hope you're out there somewhere my SFAM, and if you read this, send me a shout! Otherwise I'mna have ta send a certain retrieval expert to find ya!

And a thank you to my beta, Irish, to whom I refer when I'm stuck in the middle of a plot with no way out. Thanks for the pushes and nudges!

**Angels Bending Near**

"We're here, Eliot," Nate said, reaching out to touch his right forearm, about the only place that didn't have some tubes, wires or bandages covering it. "We're all here, you'll be okay," he said, hoping, like Tenny, that he hadn't just lied to him.

* * *

Eliot heard voices around him, chattering and talking about something that he couldn't decipher. Finally he managed to pick out individual tones, a low baritone that sounded like Hardison, a British accent.

Peeling his eyes open, he looked to the side and saw the team sitting beside his bed, discussing something.

"...truck. The whole thing is smashed. It wouldn't be worth much."

"We can always have it repaired..?"

"Naw, man, not worth it. Just junk the piece of crap."

"He's not going to need it anyway."

A pause.

"Hey look, he's awake."

" 'bout damn time. Lazy ass."

Heads turned to him, looking at him with exasperation. Nate had a drink in his hand and he knocked it back before leaning back in his chair. Parker was curled up on hers, legs hanging off one side, a lock in one hand and picks in the other. She didn't even glance in his direction. Sophie turned back to her magazine, brows arching as she read whatever article had her so entranced. Hardison was intent on his laptop, mouth twisting as he tried to beat his game.

"Finally decided to get with the program, huh, Eliot?" Nate's dry voice asked, his brow arching. "I have to tell you, this is getting old. Finding you broken on the side of the highway, pulling your ass out of the fire again and again..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head.

"Can we go now?" a disinterested whine asked. Parker kicked her shoes against the chair and tilted her head at Nate.

"Yes, yes, go ahead." he waved them off, and the three jumped up and walked out the door, as if released from some onerous duty.

"Well, I guess we'll see you later then." Nate turned without a goodbye and followed the rest of the team out the door.

* * *

Eliot was taken into surgery late the following day so that the orthopedic surgeon could insert the titanium rod into his femur, and while they did that, his shoulder was also grafted, the artificially grown skin laid over the open wound. Five hours after that, he was returned to his room, the monitors and machines returned to his body, the beeping and whirring continuing.

He was unaware of the company sitting vigil beside him, watching every breath he took and making sure he took another. Instead, his mind played tricks on him, scenarios very different than reality playing out in his head.

* * *

"Nate..."

"No, Eliot, we won't discuss it further. You're a liability." The words sucker punched him in the gut. "We can't trust you to keep us safe if you're always getting hurt.

"But it's my job! It's..."

"It's what you do, yes, yes, we _know_ already! But you can't do your job when you're always busted up and covered with icepacks!"

"Nate, please, don't..."

"There's nothing more to say, Eliot," the crisp words cut him off. "You said it yourself: One show only, no encores. Well, this show has been going on for years, Eliot. _Years!_ It's over. Done. We've had enough."

Eliot watched in disbelief as Nate turned away, walking through the doors and leaving him alone, in the hospital bed, unable to follow.

* * *

"Eliot, Eliot, it's okay. Easy there, hun, it's okay." Sophie put her hand on his forehead, her thumb smoothing his brow as he moved his head back and forth, distressed sounds whispering from his throat. His eyes tracked restlessly behind fluttering lids and his breathing was labored.

The doctors had just extubated him a little while ago, his coughing and gagging making the team wince in sympathy and worry as they heard him moan, even while unconscious. While it was a relief that he could finally breathe on his own, the sounds of pain that he made were stressful to those who only wanted him well and whole.

"Easy, Eliot," she repeated, her brown eyes watching him as his hands moved, sliding across the blanket. She captured one in hers, her fingers tightening around his.

Hands appeared on the railing opposite her and she looked up, seeing Nate's worried eyes lock onto hers.

"He'll be alright," Nate said, his hands tensing on the rail with a white knuckled grip. Sophie nodded.

Eliot's punctured lung had been repaired and he was breathing well, with no indications of bleeding in his lungs although he was being monitored closely. Pneumonia was a danger with lungs as damaged as his were, and each time he wheezed or coughed the team worried that he'd developed it, only to be assured by the next nurse that he was still clear of that danger.

Day followed night but the cast was the same: Nate had bullied the ICU staff into letting them all stay in Eliot's room. Every once in a while Parker would disappear somewhere, into a vent, out a window, they never knew where. Sometimes they heard her behind the grate above Eliot's bed, but they didn't acknowledge it. It was her way of coping with the stress of Eliot's injuries while still staying near him.

Hardison brought boxes and boxes of donuts for everyone, effectively keeping the entire staff on a sugar high, which made them more welcome guests. He implanted himself beside the window with at least two computers running at all times, lodging himself in the chair with an endless supply of donuts and orange soda.

"Is he dreaming again?" The voice floated down from the air vent.

"Yes, Parker," Sophie said without looking up. "I don't know what he's been dreaming about, but it's disturbing him."

"You can make him better," Parker's voice had more confidence in Sophie than she herself did. The grifter continued to stroke Eliot's forehead, murmuring into his ear while he twitched, his eyes flickering madly.

* * *

"Well, Eliot, you don't need to worry anymore, we have your replacement."

Nate stood at the foot of the hitter's bed with someone he didn't know, didn't recognize. The man was easily 6 foot, his muscle-corded arms held behind him as he stood in a relaxed military pose. His blond hair was shaven close to his skull, and his eyes were cold.

"This...? _He's_...?" Eliot couldn't believe that Nate had chosen this man, so obviously the opposite of the dark-haired hitter.

"What," a lazy voice drawled as Hardison stepped into the room. He and the new man bumped fists and shoulders with a grin. "You think we'd pick a cookie cutter copy of ya'll? Naw, man, we _upgraded_. This is model 2.0, better known as Rocky."

Eliot's eyebrows went up and he made a face.

"Don't laugh, man, he let me pick the nickname," Hardison said in defense. The blond man smiled as the hacker spoke, then turned his cold eyes back to the hitter and frowned.

"We done, boss?" his gravely voice asked, looking at Nate. Getting an absent nod from Nate the two other men exited the room, talking animatedly. An excited squeal sounded as Parker saw them, and her voice happily joined theirs.

Eliot turned back to Nate, his mouth open to say something.

"Don't look so shocked," the mastermind said. "You had to know that this was coming, or are you really as stupid as you 'pretend' to be?"

Eliot didn't know what to say to that, and Nate shrugged as he left, the door swinging shut behind him.

* * *

It was dark outside when Eliot finally opened his eyes, struggling to see in the dim light of the room. The light was on above his head, though dimmed, and the sound of the monitors coalesced into something more meaningful as he listened to the rhythms.

Looking around, he was startled to see the others in the room with him, Hardison, Nate and Sophie slumped in the chairs beside his bed, Parker curled up on the windowsill. He wondered why they were there, why they bothered to stay where it was obviously so uncomfortable for them. Did they want to gloat some more? He looked around, but didn't see 'Rocky' anywhere.

Closing his eyes again, he drifted back to darkness.

A moment later, Hardison stirred, his back twinging. He stretched, one hand going to the small of his back as he arched, yawning.

The hacker leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes watching the unconscious hitter. The monitors beeped steadily, showing that Eliot's heartbeat and blood pressure were consistent, but the sounds did nothing to reassure the hacker as he looked at the lax face of his friend.

"Come on, Eliot, man," he said softly, searching for any signs of awareness. "Come back to us. Please." His soft words were heard only by Parker, who had been listening for any changes in the room. Hardison's voice was the first she'd heard for hours, long after Nate and Sophie had nodded off.

She slipped off of the sill and padded around to the foot of Eliot's bed. Hardison didn't even flinch when she crawled onto the chair with him, perching on the arm and leaning her body across his back, her whole attention on the figure in the bed.

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know, mama," he said, his hand covering hers on his shoulder. "I hope so."

* * *

The next afternoon Nate heard a soft knock on the door of Eliot's room and he scrubbed a hand over his face. The others sat up straighter in their chairs, and he assumed Parker was watching closely from her vantage point, whichever vent she had chosen to hide herself in today.

He stood and walked over to the door, pulling it open. There was a couple standing outside the room, the woman's hand holding that of a young girl. He recognized the girl from the TV; she had been the one holding Eliot's hand in the wreck.

"Is Mister Eliot here?" she asked immediately, almost before his brain had processed her connection to the hitter.

"I'm sorry," said the man. "I'm Pat Quinn, and this is my wife, Jackie, and our daughter, Megan."

"Hi," the girl piped up. "Is Mister Eliot here?" she asked again, her mind obviously on one track.

"Yes, he is, but he's sleeping." Nate looked back at Pat, the expression on his face torn.

"Meg, honey, we can't go in now...Megan!" he called, but the girl had already pulled out of her mother's grasp and ducked around Nate's legs, hurdling into Eliot's room.

Sophie's light gasp at the tiny intruder and Hardison's "What the..." were heard as Nate turned around, and he saw that the girl had pushed his chair closer to Eliot's bed and was now standing in it, leaning over the railing and close to the hitter, but not touching his body. Her little hands gripped the pillow beside his head, and she was whispering into his ear.

"Mister Eliot? You gotta wake up now, okay? It's Megan." Her words were as tiny as she was, and she stretched for him to hear. "I came back, I told you I would. But you were telling me a story. The one with the horses? You didn't finish it. I wanna hear about the horses."

"Megan!" her mother admonished, and Nate backed up to let them in so they could gather the girl.

Eliot's head moved, and they all froze.

All but one. "Mister Eliot!" she said happily as his eyes fluttered open. "You can tell me the story now!"

Nate and the rest watched closely, seeing the hitter's glazed eyes moving around the room, not seeing much. A small hand touched the side of his face and he turned slightly, cloudy blue eyes meeting bright smiling green.

"The horses?" she prompted again.

Eliot frowned, not remembering what she was talking about.

"Oh, you're still sick," her face fell, but was quickly reanimated. "Okay, I'll tell you one then," she said, and launched into a story about a wolf and a mouse with one shoe who went to market, only to be met in the forest by a red-cloaked bear and three blond pigs who wanted their basket of breadcrumbs to take to the fancy ball.

Nate smiled indulgently as the girl mixed up at least four fairy tales and he heard her parents chuckling softly. She didn't seem to be bothering the hitter with her chatter, so they let her continue. Eliot's eyelids slowly grew heavier and they watched as he finally slipped back into sleep.

Jackie went forward then and tugged on the girl's ear gently, tousling her hair. "What did we say sweetie?" she asked.

Megan looked up at her mother and frowned. "Just another minute?" she pleaded, but her mother shook her head.

"Okay," she sighed, turning back to the hitter once more. "Momma says we have to go now, Mister Eliot. But I wanna come back and hear the ending to _your_ story. I'll bet it's even better than mine was." She waited for a response but she received nothing but slow, even breaths.

Hopping off of the chair, she grabbed her mother's hand again and pulled her over to Nate.

"Can we come back?" she was practically bouncing on her toes, reminding him of a diminutive Parker.

"Of course," he said, and the grin that lit her face brightened the entire room.

"Thank you for coming," Sophie called to the Quinns, and Megan darted back to give the startled grifter a hug before running back out the door. Her father smiled indulgently at Sophie, who returned it, and the door was closed again.

"Wow, whatta fan club you got goin' on there, man," Hardison said, smiling in the wake of the tiny whirlwind. "You jest gotta go and get all the women, even the miniature ones, don'tcha?"

They looked to the bed, hoping for a snarky comeback, but Eliot's eyes were still closed, his breathing slow and deep.

Hearing a sigh from one of the vents, Nate pulled the chair back and sat down again, steepling his fingers under his chin.

Sophie settled back in her chair and Hardison mumbled softly as he pulled one of his laptops back onto his lap, fingers tapping the keyboard as he ran his codes and programs once more.

* * *

The next time Eliot woke it was still daytime, and the sun was trying to shine through the thin curtains on the window. He saw a shadow outside but his vision of the window was quickly blocked by a body that came up to his bedside. Looking up, he saw that it was Nate.

He heard banging on the window and then felt a cool breeze, seeing the curtains blowing gently into the room.

"He's awake, mama," he heard Hardison say, just as Nate asked, "Eliot, how are you feeling?"

Confused, he looked around the room, seeing Sophie there as well, their faces creased with worry.

"Eliot?" Sophie said when he didn't respond. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" She moved closer and put a hand on his forehead and then his cheeks. "You're not feverish. What's wrong?"

"What..." his voice was scratchy with disuse. "What are you doing here?"

They looked at each other, confusion written on their faces then, as well.

"You were in an accident, Eliot," Nate explained gravely. "You're hurt. But you'll be okay."

"I know..." his voice was hesitant. "But, what about...what about Rocky?"

Nate looked back at the others, frowning. "Who's Rocky, Eliot?" he asked. "One of the kids on the bus?"

"No...the guy...the guy you hired...my replacement..."

They all looked shocked then, their mouths opening in little 'O's. Hardison gaped like a fish, "Naw, man, naw that ain't right, we'd _never_...!"

"Rocky? That's a name for a dog. Or a fish. Not a hitter," Parker scoffed as she finished unbuckling her harness. "Rocky. What a dumb name. Now that you're awake, will you tell me the story about the horses so I can tell Megan the next time she comes? 'Cause you fell asleep in the middle of hers. I'm still not sure why the bear was wearing a cloak. Her story was confusing. Yours isn't, is it?" she asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth.

"Parker, stop, hold on," Nate tried to regain control of the conversation, seeing that Eliot was only getting more and more confused with each question.

"Eliot," he waited until the man's eyes were focused on him. "There is no Rocky; there is no replacement for you. There never was. You were dreaming."

"Dream...?" he asked softly. "Then...you didn't..."

"What, Eliot?" Sophie's hand was gentle on his. "We didn't what?"

"You didn't...leave me? You didn't walk away?" He remembered the sharp click of her heels, the smart tapping of Nate's as they left him bleeding on the concrete.

"Of course not!"

"No!"

"We'd never do that!"

The chorus of negatives filled the room, their distress palpable. He relaxed fractionally as Sophie's fingers gripped his hand, her other hand on his temple, brushing his hair away from his face. Parker came up to his other side, her fingers weaving into the hair at his neck.

"Silly. Who else would let me braid his hair?" she asked as she separated the strands, intent on creating yet another tiny braid behind his ear.

"There will never be a replacement for you, Eliot," Nate said, and he could see Hardison furiously shaking his head, agreeing with the man. "Never. We're a team, and you're part of it. Of us."

"Yeah, bro," Hardison said, coming up behind Parker. "So relax, man, we got your back on this one."

Eliot felt a hand gently clasping his shoulder and another one on his uninjured thigh, and with the four of them touching him, centering him, _grounding_ him, he finally drifted into a gentle darkness that held none of the dreams of abandonment that he'd experienced before. Instead, he dreamed of the team. _His_ team.

* * *

fin.

Apparently, I have to beg for reviews, which I hate doing, but otherwise I get two. Or less. So please, feed my muse so I feel like writing more stories...please? That's the button, riiiiiight here-


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